


Get Your Eight Hours

by Anorlost



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Asexual Character, Character Study, Gen, Prostitution, The Hux approach to brothels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-17 23:41:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7290787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anorlost/pseuds/Anorlost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s hardly my fault you made such a gross assumption as to what my intentions were,” he said.</p><p>“You booked a private room, in a brothel, for an eight hour block,” Emer reminded him, “Sweetie, I’m not sure what they told you on your ship, our assumption was perfectly valid.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Your Eight Hours

**Author's Note:**

> Here's another speedwriting fic, but this one has been edited. Basically Ace!Hux goes to a brothel. Things happen, and I wound up getting attached to Emer.

“Take this, you’ll need it.”

Emer looked at the concoction that the Madam held out to her. She instantly recognized it as a mixture of various energy drinks with small traces of narcotics specifically designed to keep workers up all night. Emer resisted the urge to glower down at it, knowing full well what it meant. Someone had booked her for at least six hours. She preferred shorter jobs, which were far less mentally taxing. At this point she more or less had what she needed to say and do for the short jobs memorized and barely needed to register what was going on around her. With longer jobs she needed to stay engaged with the client the entire time and it was impossible to predict how an evening would end. Short jobs could always go sour, but at least she did not have to pretend to make a connection with a client and commit to it for such a long amount of time.

“How long?” asked Emer, accepting the drink and bracing herself for the sour, faintly lemony taste.

“Eight hours,” replied her Madam. She had another name, probably, but Emer had been told to use Madam and nothing else, “One of those First Order thugs on shore leave from the look of him.”

That made the already unpleasant plan for the evening even worse. Nobody liked dealing with anyone from the First Order, or soldiers in general. Putting a bunch of young people on what was essentially a repressive floating city for months and only giving a few days of leave at a time was a recipe for disaster. And of course being a bunch of coarse and crass military thugs, they were often loud, obnoxious, and eager to boast about how tough they were. Even the women. Actually, in Emer’s opinion, the women tended to be worse, trying to prove they were just as, if not more brutish, than the men. There were exceptions, of course. Every group had its exceptions, but they seemed few and far between.

Besides, a brothel was hardly the place the exceptions tended to spend their time and credits.

“He called himself ‘Set’. Wouldn’t give any other personal information, paid up-front, and he didn’t look drunk,” the Madam informed her as she watched Emer drink down the concoction, “He’s upstairs already.”

“No requests?” asked Emer, coughing back some of the mixture.

“Asked for eight hours, anything goes,” the Madam sighed and gave Emer an apologetic look, “Wasn’t too picky about partners either. He didn’t even look at pictures.”

“So anybody could have been fine…” Emer muttered.

Madam furrowed her brows as she snatched the empty glass back. The motion was so quick that it actually hurt a bit when the glass was ripped from her fingers. Madam regarded her sternly, “You were the only one free for the block of time he requested. Though if you keep that attitude up, I’ll go out of my way to make sure you get more clients like him.”

“Yes, ma’am…” sighed Emer.

“He doesn’t seem like trouble. Behave with him and I’ll forget I heard that bit of snark,” said Madam.

Emer sighed again and straightened her dress. At least it was supposed to be a dress. It looked more like an overly long, blue shirt. She made her way to the stairs and braced herself for anything. Who was the last First Order client she’d had? Ah, that was right, a woman, an officer, it had obviously been her first time with another woman. She might have done it on a dare, trying to prove to her friends just how wild she was. Emer had not cared, really. It hadn’t been horrible, it hadn’t been fun, but in the end she had been paid. It was just work, and often times it all blurred together.

She reached the top of the steps and passed a guard. If something went wrong he would come and fight off the client if he or she broke any of the house rules. Normally things were not so bad once they got upstairs. Negotiations had been settled and most people stuck to them. But if a client violated the contract or threatened to maim or kill any of the workers, then the guards would get involved. It seemed clients could get away with smaller acts of violence though. Emer had been slapped enough times to know that was the case.

She stepped into ‘her’ room and got her first look at him. Even in civilian clothing he had a sort of martial look to him. All clean and pressed with his back straight, legs firmly braced and hands clasped behind his back. He seemed more ready to stand on a parade square than in a bedroom.

Emer slipped into her usual persona, smiling slyly at him and draping herself against the frame of the door. She hummed and giggled, feeling the drink begin to kick in and willing herself not to flit about the room as the rush started to bubble through her veins. She looked over him appraisingly. He was not overly muscular, very serious expression, and had the brightest shock of red hair she had ever seen in her life. She flicked a tongue over her lower lip as she said, “Good evening, officer…Set, was it?”

“Indeed,” Set, if that was even his real name, replied.

“Mhmm…” she hummed, closing the door and sauntering closer, “Just the two of us all night long…what’s the occasion?”

“No occasion. It’s been a long time is all,” said Set firmly, like he was giving a report. He commanded, “Lie on the bed.”

“Yes, sir,” said Emer, giving a salute she was sure must have been entirely wrong. She walked to the bed, swaying her hips and making a show of laying back and splaying herself out. If there was a silver lining to any of this, Set seemed to be taking the lead. At least she would not have to think of how to entertain him. He would set the pace and she would follow and react. That made things a bit easier.

Set had already removed his shoes and made quick work of his shirt and slacks. He walked to the bed, wearing only a set of plain black boxers and a grey undershirt. He sat down on the bed before leaning back beside her. He settled into the pillows and tested the blankets under his fingers. They were washed regularly, Madam’s orders, and seemed clean and soft enough for Set’s liking. He settled his arms across his chest and glanced at her for a moment. Then he closed his eyes and said something entirely unexpected.

“Well, goodnight then.”

Goodnight? Goodnight!? He was going to fall asleep? As much as Emer was grateful that he was not going to be rough or creepy or aggressive, she had just consumed enough caffeine, sugar and narcotics to keep her wired for six hours straight. In a few moments she was going to be physically incapable of staying still. She needed something to occupy her mind or hands or she would likely go insane within the next ten to twenty minutes.

“Don’t you want to spend some time with me?” pouted Emer, leaning over and tracing his slim bicep, “It’s awful early to call it a night.”

“Not really, goodnight,” replied Set without even opening his eyes.

“I don’t come cheap you know. I won’t tell you how to spend your credits, but it seems like a bit of a waste,” said Emer in a whiney, childish way. She ran her fingers down his chest insistently, “I’ll make sure it’s fun for you.”

“Look, if I wanted fun, this isn’t where I would go,” said the officer, opening one eye and giving her a warning stare, “And if I wanted conversation you’re hardly who I would engage with. Goodnight.”

Rude. Not the worst she had been on the receiving end of, but still rude. She pouted more and nuzzled against his neck, “Aw…if you keep being mean it’s going to hurt my feelings. You can’t really want to sleep…” She took his hand and lifted it to rest on her breast, rubbing against it and giving an exaggerated moan, “Hm? You paid for this, you should enjoy it.”

Both of the man’s eyes were open. His expression was jarringly fierce and his hand remained limp against her breast. He glowered up at her, “You will release my hand, or I am going to leave and take my business elsewhere.”

Emer instantly let go. She was not stupid enough to push someone when they threatened to leave. If she lost a client who had paid this much, Madam would add it to her debt, and that would just be the beginning of her punishment. Set retracted his hand and replaced it on his chest before closing his eyes and repeating, “Goodnight.”

Emer sighed and closed her eyes, clenching the bed sheets in her shaking hand, “Look, sir, I’m going to be honest with you. If I don’t do my utmost to satisfy you, I’m going to get in trouble. If someone walks by and thinks I’m being lazy, it won’t end well for me. Also, Madam gave me enough drugs and sugar before coming up here to win a foot-race with a speeder bike. So I need something to do. Anything. If I don’t do something, I might go crazy.”

“It’s hardly my fault you made such a gross assumption as to what my intentions were,” said Set.

“You booked a private room, in a brothel, for an eight hour block,” Emer reminded him, “Sweetie, I’m not sure what they told you on your ship, our assumption was perfectly valid.”

“Don’t suppose they can send someone else up,” muttered Set.

“No, there’s nobody available for the block you wanted and…if you send me down, I’m going to be in a lot of trouble,” said Emer.

“But it wasn’t your fault, was it?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Set opened one eye again and looked her over, “Since we’re being honest with each other, the only reason I’m here is because I wanted someone to sleep beside. I have a high rank on my ship and I can’t ask this of anyone under my command. I don’t want to have sex with you, so don’t do anything like that again, and don’t try to manipulate me into changing my mind. I’m not going to have intercourse with you because someone slipped you something.”

Emer started slightly at that. She’d had the misfortune of seeing and hearing a lot during her work, but this was the first time she’d heard of someone hiring a prostitute to very literally sleep with them. She flopped back on the bed and nodded vigorously as she felt sweats coming on. She supposed her pupils would be dilated already, and if not they would be soon. She drummed her fingers against her taunt stomach as she processed what she had just heard. It was strange, but not in a frightening way. She might give it more consideration when she could focus. In the meantime, she wanted to run a marathon, scream at the top of her voice and bounce off of every wall in her path.

“And I respect that, but I am going to go crazy if I don’t do something,” Emer insisted, “It doesn’t have to be sex.”

Set sighed and got up. He went to his discarded slacks and pulled out a datapad. He tapped at it quickly as he went back to the bed. He held it out to Emer, “It’s a number game. You have to make sure numbers one through nine are used in every line on the grid. I’ve locked it so you can’t exit the application or poke around anywhere else. If you play with that will you be able to hold still while I sleep?”

“Yeah…and, if you don’t mind I’ll ask for someone to send something up to help me detox. It’ll take a while, but it’ll help me get this out of my system so I can hold still for you,” said Emer.

“Do what you must,” said Set, settling back into the pillows and slipping under the sheets.

Emer practically leapt off the bed and dashed to the com by the door, “This is Emer. I need someone to send up bread and a lot of water.”

She was also going to throw up before her body absorbed any more of the awful mixture she drank, but nobody needed to know that. She glanced back at the bed, “I’ll be in the refresher if you need me, sweetie. Just need a few minutes to freshen up.”

Set didn’t respond. He did not even so much as nod his affirmation. Emer scowled at him. He was not the rudest or most vial client she had entertained, but he was a very far cry from her personal ideal. He draped an arm over his eyes and his chest heaved a sigh as he settled against the unfamiliar bed. Emer did not have time for that though. She went to the refresher with as much decorum as she could before kneeling by the toilet and jamming her fore and middle fingers down her throat. She needed to get that concoction out of her system.

She jerked and coughed as she triggered her gag reflex. It took some doing, seeing as she had supressed it for the most part, but within a few seconds of insistent jabbing she started salivating and coughing up phlegm. It was a start, but not the desired result. She should have brought a tooth brush, something longer to probe deeper and get the whole thing over with more quickly. It did not help that the mix had her shaking and sweating as the sugar and caffeine rushes took over.

In time she finally began to throw up. Her chest and stomach hurt terribly from the effort and the taste in her mouth was awful. She let out a hiss of disgust as she went to the sink and washed off her hand, which was covered with all sorts of awful fluids. She washed it before splashing water over her face and giving it a scrub. What did she care what her makeup looked like now? Her client did not seem to care, so it was really of no consequence. She took a few mouthfuls of water, swishing it around her mouth and spitting it back into the sink to get the acidic taste out of her mouth. She could not say she looked much better for wear when it was all over, but at least she would not have to contend with being on several highs for the next eight hours while being ordered to hold still.

By the time she came out the bread and water had been delivered and set on a small table by the door. Emer went to it and began eating the bread as quickly as she could. Whatever she could not manage to cough up would hopefully be absorbed by it and the water she drank to help get it down would hopefully dilute what little of it remained. It was not a perfect solution, she would still be jittery for a while, but it was better than being stir crazy for the whole session.

She resisted the urge to sigh as she returned to the bed. She also checked her usual tendency to drape herself over her client seductively. Recalling how he had glared at her and the low, vicious tone of his voice when she had become more aggressive, Emer decided it was best to give this one his space. Instead she rested beside him, close enough to let him know she was close by, but avoiding physical contact. She took up the datapad he had loaned her and looked at the puzzle game he said she could play to occupy herself. What were the rules? Use all numbers from one to nine in each line of the grid. Some of the numbers were already filled in, so it seemed she had to figure out which numbers went into the remaining squares.

It took her a couple of puzzles to really get into the swing of it. Once she discovered she could make little notes on the side of the grid or in the corner of the squares, it became much easier to process them. It was fun, and the sense of accomplishment was addicting, not like those dirty question games or ice breakers she usually had to play. More so because she could focus on the puzzle itself, not throwing a round of darts or pretending to be stupid to make some man she barely knew feel more secure in his masculinity.

About six puzzles in she was getting through them quickly and wondered if there was a way to make them more difficult. That was when Set shifted slightly and Emer remembered there was, in fact, a man sleeping next to her. Or trying to. Judging from the tightness in his jaw he was not asleep yet.

It was such an odd thing to request. Rent out a room for a night, and not a particularly cheap one at that, and hire a girl just to have a warm body beside him? A pet would probably be less expensive and more satisfying. How had he explained his situation? He had a high rank and could not ask anyone under his command to sleep with him, even if it was just sleeping. It made sense. No matter who he asked there would be the uncomfortable subtext of a superior officer harassing his subordinates. Still, it seemed like quite the length to go to just to have a warm body beside him.

“You ever consider getting a cat?” asked Emer. She heard no response so she continued, “I know you’re awake, sweetie. If you just want someone to cuddle with, you should get a cat. I hear cats make good pets on ships, since they can more or less take care of themselves.”

“I have a cat,” Set replied, somewhat listlessly, “Her name’s Millicent. She’s three years old.”

“Oh,” said Emer, slightly surprised by that. So it must have been human interaction he was after. Still, it seemed odd just to want to sleep beside someone and have the line drawn there, especially with how far he was going to get someone to sleep with him. She turned slightly to look down at him. He still had a slim, pale arm thrown over his eyes and his mouth seemed permanently screwed in an irritated expression. Normally she would flirt and kiss and pet her clients to get them to loosen up, but this one did not operate like her usual clients. She put the datapad under a pillow to keep it out of the way and settled on her side so she could face Set. She muttered quietly, “So, you like cats?”

“I do. Though I dislike what you might call small-talk,” said Set. He removed his arm and glanced at Emer, “Look, I don’t imagine that this is your dream career or that I’m doing you any favors, but I’m paying ridiculous amounts of credits for you to lie down next to me and do nothing. As I understand it most people seem to like that idea.”

Don’t insult the client. Emer reminded herself of that as she resisted the urge to counter with how rude he had been and how upsetting the whole ordeal had been so far. She sighed, “You booked an eight hour block and all you want is sleep. This is the first time I’ve ever heard of anyone doing that and, if I’m allowed to be frank, it’s really strange.”

“I believe I explained the situation adequately,” replied Set.

“Not really…” said Emer, “I mean, I understand. But if you just want to sit or lie beside someone you can do all sorts of other things. This isn’t your only option. Are you sure all you want is to have me lie here? I won’t make you touch me again…sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”

Set sighed lightly as he looked at the ceiling and the dim light fixture, “Is there any way to turn that off?”

Emer clapped her hands twice loudly and the lights powered off. She heard him sigh again, “I’m not interested in sex. At all, but I like it when people touch me. Not salaciously, just…simple things. But I like it enough that people who I interact with find the concept very confusing.”

So he did want to be touched. She could see his silhouette in the dark and slivers of light playing across his red hair and pale face. He took a moment before admitting, “I’ve never asked anyone to touch me before and I’m not entirely sure how to phrase it.”

“Well, normally we’d just fool around until you figured it out, but you don’t want that,” Emer muttered, mostly to herself, “Do you know what sort of stuff you like?”

“Don’t laugh,” Set ordered.

Emer cocked her brow at that before conceding, “I won’t.”

Set waited again before he continued, “I really don’t know. Gentle I suppose. I never really liked being manhandled by the boys when I was a cadet.” He sighed, “Don’t you dare laugh.”

“I said I wouldn’t,” repeated Emer, keeping her anger in check, “People tell me all sorts of things, hun. I’m sure what you’re about to say isn’t all that strange.”

“I like…” he began and trailed off. This must have been difficult for him. It might have been cute if he was not such an intimidating figure. He sighed, barely above a whisper, “…hair cut…”

Emer shrugged, “Lots of people like getting their hair cut. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

In the dim light filtering in through the window she saw him slip a hand over his eyes, “You don’t know me, and you don’t know my position, but if you knew who I was you’d probably see why it’s something I don’t want to confide in people.”

“Why? You’re human. You’re allowed to enjoy things that feel nice,” said Emer, furrowing her brow. He was making an awfully big deal about enjoying a few simple pleasures. They did not even sound like particularly guilty ones. She supposed it had something to do with being masculine. Perhaps the idea that he liked going out and having his hair done was too effeminate for him, even though it was something every gender tended to need fairly regularly to keep a neat appearance. She looked his silhouette over, “Want me to play with your hair?”

He went quiet at that and seemed to think the offer over. Emer tried to figure out if he was naturally awkward or if something in his upbringing made him this way. He was well spoken enough, despite being blunt and curt. He was abrasive, but seemed perfectly capable of being social if he wanted to. Thinking back to how he offered his datapad, he did not seem like he was a particularly cruel person. He could have just ordered her to lay down and ride out her discomfort and not bother him again. He was not what she would call nice, but he seemed fair. Not cruel, not kind, but he seemed understanding at the very least. So he had enough social graces to talk with people and comprehend what they were feeling.

“I’m going to need a yes or no from you, sweetie. I don’t want to upset you,” said Emer.

Set sighed, “…yes…”

It was a soft reply, barely audible against the traffic outside. Emer rested her head on her arm as she settled in a bit closer before lifting her hand to run her fingers through his hair. He instantly shuddered. Hard. Like he had been standing next to a high powered freezing unit and someone opened the door to blast him with cold air. It was such a strong reaction that she retracted her hand instantly, “You okay? Did that hurt?”

“No it…that’s what happens,” Set muttered, sounding frustrated with himself, “Someone touches me and I do…that. Whatever that was.”

He was clearly touch starved. It was far from the first time Emer encountered someone who shivered from gentle touches. It was actually very common, but Set’s reaction bordered on being violent. If she had not seen him beforehand, official and stoic looking, she might have thought he was faking such an overblown reaction to such a simple, basic form of contact. She reached out again and could have sworn she heard something that was almost a whimper coming from him as she slowly glided a finger through his hair to part it and fan through it.

“That feels good?” she asked.

Set nodded quietly and turned his head to give her better access.

He was strange, but not bad. If he had been a little more polite he might have even been cute. Emer absentmindedly carded through his hair. It was short. There was not much that she could do with it. Braiding seemed out of the question, and brushing seemed a bit like overkill. Set seemed to be enjoying it though. He had nice hair from the feel of it, and no product in it. He must have set it in the morning when it was wet to hold it in place. It must have been nice having hair that was so manageable. It was soft too. If he had been one of the workers he would have probably had an endless stream of people volunteering to help him fix his hair before meeting clients.

“You’re lucky. You have really good hair,” said Emer, until she came to the back of his neck where the soft hair ended abruptly. He probably shaved his neck to keep his hair in that regulation style. Set shuddered again and curled in on himself slightly. She could see why people would be so concerned over his reactions. It seemed like he was either in complete ecstasy or incredible pain. Despite being warned beforehand she had still felt the need to pull back the first time he had done it.

“I’ve been doing that since I was a child,” explained Set quietly, “Little touches seem to set it off. Someone touches my hair or back gently and I turn into a wreck. It’s horribly undignified.”

That must have been what he meant about not wanting to confide it in people. If his whole position was built around being intimidating, having rumours spreading that he had such an…enthusiastic…response to cuddles was probably not something that was going to help him. It was a strange thing to think that something so innocent needed to be kept under wraps. Emer was used to hearing far more racy secrets. _‘Don’t say anything, my wife doesn’t know.’ ‘If anyone knew I actually liked women…’ ‘Nobody else lets me do these sorts of things.’_ Set’s secret was so harmless by comparison it was ridiculous.

“It’s also…confusing…for most people. I tell them I’m not interested in a serious relationship, then I react positively to touch. I get called a liar a lot,” Set continued. He sighed slightly, “Not recently though. Since I received my command there’s nobody I can have such contact with without it being inappropriate. That was quite some time ago.”

“But there has to be someone,” said Emer. She could not imagine going for months without physical contact with another person.

“We don’t exactly get together and have collective grooming sessions,” scoffed Set.

“I suppose,” said Emer, gliding her fingers through his hair, “Isn’t there someone with the same rank on your ship?”

“He’s out of the question,” said Set, “Our relationship is already strained, and if it gets much worse it will no doubt have a negative impact on the crew. I don’t want to risk complicating a situation that’s already volatile.”

It sounded a bit like he was cutting himself off, closing doors for fear they might be slammed in his face, but it was not Emer’s job to tell clients that they were wrong. If they wanted to talk about their lives and problems, she could try to point them in the right direction, but it was counterintuitive to give advice to a person who sounded so resigned. She had just gotten the man calm and slightly more amicable. She was not going to wind him up again by starting an argument.

“Want me to rub your back, sweetie?” asked Emer.

“My name isn’t ‘sweetie,’” replied Set, “Call me Set.”

The name rolled very naturally off his tongue. Either he had spent a long time rehearsing this or he had used his real name. Thinking about it, what did he have to lose? Nearly everyone came to these sorts of places, and Set was a young man. People probably expected him to go to brothels and sleep with a stupidly high number of women. A young man going out into space was going to have his needs and urges, especially if there were rules about fraternization. If he used his real name it was probably no skin off his nose if someone found out he had hired a prostitute.

“That’s an interesting name,” said Emer.

“An odd name, you mean,” said Set with a short laugh, “It’s short for Setanta. I prefer ‘Set’ over ‘Tanny.’”

Tanny sounded cuter, but Emer was not about to tell him that after he had stated his preference. He asked softly, “I don’t suppose Emer is your real name.”

Emer was slightly surprised by that. She didn’t remember introducing herself, and from what Madam had said, he had not really cared who he hired. Seeing as he only wanted a warm body to sleep beside, it was awfully decent of him to remember her name. She shook her head, “No, my real name is Emer. But you’re right. Some of the girls, and some of the boys for that matter, have cute working names like Ginger or Hyacinth or Blossom. Mine was exotic enough not to change.”

“It’s Arkanisian, if I’m not mistaken,” noted Set.

“My grandfather was from Arkanis. It could be Arkanisian,” replied Emer with a shrug. Her only knowledge of the planet was that there was a military academy and the weather was very wet. She hadn’t given much thought to where her name came from. There were always much more pressing things to think about. She trailed her fingers down to his neck again, “So, do you want me to touch your back?”

“If you like,” said Set, shifting slightly to turn his back to her.

“You hired me swee- Set. This is about what you like. Feel free to ask if there’s something you want,” replied Emer, tracing a line down his spine that drew another, almost pained noise from him. It was such an unexpectedly strong reaction that she felt compelled to ask again, “That feels alright? I’m not hurting you?”

“No, it’s fine,” said Set quickly.

“Is it too much?” asked Emer. She was used to asking that question for activities that were much racier than lightly tickling someone’s back. Set’s sensitivity to touch must have been off the charts. If there was a chart to measure that sort of thing. Emer supposed going months, possibly years without affectionate touches would do that to a person.

“It’s fine,” repeated Set with a contented sigh once the initial shock to his system subsided.

“You said it’s been a while. How long has it been?” asked Emer.

“My mother gave me a hug before I joined a junior training program. Academy prep. That was…” Set trailed off as he counted lightly under his breath, “Twenty four years ago, I think. Everything else was accidental, or ended badly.”

“Accidental?” asked Emer, not wanting to touch on anything that had ended badly with a ten foot pole. If he wanted to talk about it and cry it out in her arms that was fine, and it would hardly be the first time a client did that, but Emer did not want to provoke him.

“Haircuts, being measured for clothing, medical examinations, anything where a person gets close and makes physical contact,” explained Hux, “They don’t mean to give me any sort of reaction. It just happens and then they give me this look…”

“I guess it must be a shock for them. You have quite the shudder,” noted Emer, lightly tracing his neck and over his shoulder, “What does it feel like?”

Set took a moment to think it over, “It’s hard to explain. It’s like…buzzing. It starts in the back of my head or shoulders and spreads everywhere. Sometimes sounds make me do it too. Paper crinkling, water slowly being poured out, fire crackling, soft voices, those sorts of things.”

“Has it always been so…?” asked Emer, searching for a neutral word.

“Egregious? Yes,” replied Set, a slight scowl audible in his tone. He added a bit more quietly, “But I think this is the worst it’s ever gotten.”

“We like those sorts of shudders here. I’ll take it as a compliment,” said Emer amiably. She kept any trace of pity out of her voice. How old was this man? How old would that have made him since he had received the last bit of physical contact that he had actually enjoyed? And now he acted like his reaction was something to be ashamed of. It was not exactly normal, but there was no reason for him to be embarrassed by it. She settled in a bit closer, “If there’s something you want, just ask. You have all night.”

She was not sure why, but she half expected him to sob and cling to her. Normally when people revealed something so personal about themselves, especially with parents involved, they cried a little. Set was either very controlled, or was somehow alright with the situation he had been placed in, thinking it was fine for a child to say goodbye to his mother before training to be a soldier and not experiencing a positive touch for the next two decades. It was insane, but there were insane people out there who could be convinced to believe that sort of thing. Emer thought she might feel better if Set acknowledged how ludicrous his situation was in some way.

She added experimentally, “You’ve been a good boy…”

Set paused and glanced over his shoulder, “Excuse me?”

He sounded more confused than offended. Emer continued tracing circles into his back and continued nonchalantly, “You’re such a sweet boy. I don’t mind giving you anything you might need or ask for.”

“Would you mind terribly…not calling me that?” asked Set. He shook his head and lay against the pillow sounding unsettled, “You sounded almost like my mother…”

That had been the idea, but clearly this man was not into that sort of thing. She sighed lightly, “Did she call you Tanny?”

He nodded, “With my father I was Set and my mother called me Tanny. I asked her not to, but she insisted.”

‘ _I would have insisted too_ ,’ thought Emer. Set was not a bad name, but it sounded so clipped. Not to mention the awful puns and jokes someone could make with a name like that. Tanny was better. It sounded much more approachable. She repeated, “Is there anything you want, or would you just like it if I did this until you fell asleep?”

“What sort of things do you usually do?” asked Set.

Nothing so platonic. Most clients passed out after they had exhausted themselves, or they had passed out from drugs or drinking. Emer could not recall a time she had helped a client get to sleep. She tried to think of what her mother had done when she was small, or what she might have done if she had a child of her own. Despite being grown, and scary, there was something awfully childish about Set. Then again, it might have been more the fact that he had been seeking such innocent affections so desperately that was childlike.

“I could sing to you, hug you close,” suggested Emer. She wracked her brains. It had been so long since she had touched someone in such a pure, platonic way that she was having a difficult time thinking of a plain, gentle touch that was not supposed to end in sex. Clearly she had been doing this for far too long, but she still had her debts to pay off, so she would have to endure it a little longer. She thought a little harder, “You could hold me while I touched you, if you wanted.”

Set looked over his shoulder again, “That wouldn’t upset you?”

Emer was glad it was dark. She did not want the man to think she was patronizing him by smiling at such a stupid, innocent question. As if a hug could have upset her after all the things she had been ordered to do for clients. A hug actually sounded nice. With Set more personable and the concoction out of her system, the evening was turning into a nice little reprieve.

“Of course not. You could even kiss me if you felt like it,” replied Emer.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” said Set warningly.

“Then you better let me know your limits. Where can I touch?” asked Emer, watching Set shift himself to face her.

“Nowhere below the belt, and nothing flirtatious like you tried earlier,” said Set.

“Can I kiss you?” she asked.

Set paused slightly at that. He thought it over for what seemed to be a good deal of time before he replied, “No. That’s probably a bad idea.”

“Alright,” said Emer, tucking herself under his chin, “Just put your arm around my waist…there, that’s it. And you can put the other one on my shoulder…that’s right, you’ve got it. I’m going to move my leg, don’t worry, it’s just for leverage. There. Are you comfortable?”

Set rested his cheek against the top of her head, “My parents used to lie like this. Is that a strange thing to say?”

It was, but it was against the rules to say that to clients. Besides, it was not a bad observation, just a bit of an odd one, given the circumstances. Emer shook her head slightly and rested her hand on Set’s slim chest, “No, it’s perfectly fine. Do you miss them?”

“Sometimes,” admitted Set, “They were distant, but they were good people, I thought.”

Past tense. That was never a good sign. Emer settled against him and rubbed his chest, hoping it was not something he would dub ‘flirtatious,’ trying her best to distract him. She hummed lightly, trying to sound pleased when he asked, “Should I touch you? Is that how this is supposed to work?”

“Not if you don’t want to,” replied Emer quietly, “But I wouldn’t mind.”

Set sighed and seemed much more slack and relaxed than before. He even, albeit hesitantly, ran his fingers through her long, brown hair. It was pleasant, a bit like when her friends had tried styling her hair when they were all very young. Set was cautious and very clumsy, but he had nice hands, which seemed to make up for it.

“There, you’re a natural,” said Emer.

“I’d rather you didn’t patronize me,” said Set, but he did not quite seem irritated.

“I’m trying to be nice. I didn’t mean any harm,” she replied. Though if he was going to go back to being like that she had half a mind to patronize him.

“I’m going to ask you something a bit cliché, but you seem clever. What are you doing here?” asked Set.

“My parents had debts. I’m helping to pay them off, to make a long story short,” said Emer. She was used to telling this story and she was used to being asked that question. What she was not used to was leaving it at that. Normally she would pretend to pine for her freedom and describe running away with her more romantically minded clients, or use the story to hopefully sucker a one off client into becoming a regular. Instead she mumbled against Set’s chest, “First chance that comes my way, I’m gone.”

“Simple as that?” asked Set.

“Simple as that.”

“I see.”

Set did not say anything after that and Emer did not press him. They were both content and relaxed, which was as good a situation as she could have hoped for really. There were far too many nights that did not end this way. Set seemed sweet. Odd and abrasive, but sweet in his own way. Perhaps if he had done the rest of his growing up with a proper family instead of as part of some impersonal collective he might have turned out a little less touch starved and infinitely less awkward. He did not seem like he meant any harm, which was, once more, ideal in her situation. The less intent the clients were on hurting her, the better.

She pressed herself against his chest. He had a nice, clean scent. She was not sure if he was wearing any cologne or odor control product, but if he had it must have been scentless or subtle. He was also quite warm, human men usually were, though he was a bit less bulky than she was used to, making him a bit boney to lie against. The softness of his shirt and skin made up for it a little though. All in all, lying with Set was turning out to be much more pleasant than she had anticipated. She wanted to give him a goodnight kiss on the cheek, both from habit and because he seemed like such a lost, silly creature underneath his military demeanour.

She settled for nuzzling against him and rubbing his bare shoulders. He had not mentioned his rank, but it must have been high to only share it with one other person on his ship. It was hard to believe someone so young, possibly her own age, maybe a little older, was in charge of so many people, running off to kill and die worlds away. She wondered what type of soldier Set was. Was he one of the ones who went to the front or one of the ones who stayed behind and did all of the planning and commanding? It did not matter in the end. She was never going to see him again. She would probably never forget him, he was too odd to get mixed up with all of her other clients, but she doubted his memory would bubble to the surface of her thoughts terribly often.

She felt herself drifting off and was thankful for it. That meant the damned concoction had worn off. She wanted to kiss Set. It felt odd to go a whole session without anything intimate happening. She tried to remember the last client she had where she had not kissed them. She could not remember his name, only that he had not been human and the experience had been unpleasant. She did not want to think about that though.

Emer recalled the memory she usually did to get her to sleep. Black smoke billowing in front of her eyes. Not a foul, dry, stinging smoke. A magical sort of smoke she could watch swirling about at her leisure, making all of its lovely patterns without her eyes watering. She thought of a large column of it billowing in front of her eyes.

And that, like many other nights before, was the last thing she thought of before she drifted off to sleep.

   ***

Emer awoke to a knock at the door. It was the warning knock. Fifteen minutes for short sessions, half an hour for long ones. She usually did not need a warning. She was normally very good at keeping track of the time and usually could tell when the knock was coming. Then again, she usually did not fall asleep with the clients. However, seeing as this had been what was requested of her, she could hardly say no.

Set seemed as if he was somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Looking up, Emer saw his eyes were open, but they did not seem to register anything he was looking at. If he had heard the knock, it had not phased him in the slightest. In the morning light she noticed that his eyes were an interesting colour. Somewhere between blue and green, possibly a little grey in the mix. They were very pretty, whatever the case was.

“That was our half hour warning,” said Emer quietly, “You remember where you left your clothes?”

Set blinked, coming out of his self-imposed trance and glancing down at her, “Yes. Do you remember where you put that datapad?”

Emer slid an arm under one of the pillows and pulled it out, “Right here.”

Set let go of her shoulder and took it back. He turned it on and glanced at the puzzle Emer had solved. He pressed something and it brought up some sort of score board. She yawned as he studied it, “You forgot to mention every three by three section on the grid also required numbers one to nine to be used once each. It was a lot easier once I noticed that.”

“Gracious…” muttered Set, looking over her scores, “You’re quite good at these.”

“I liked math when I was in school, especially patterns,” she explained, “I loved this sort of game when I was a kid, but there was never anyone to do them with.”

“It’s a shame,” said Set.

“It is…but there’s not much either of us can do about that,” said Emer. She grinned up at him, “We have a half hour though. Is there anything you want before your time’s up?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you,” he replied curtly.

“I could help you dress, wash, fix your hair for you,” offered Emer, “That sort of thing can be fun.”

“No, that’s quite alright,” insisted Set.

Emer moved off of him as he got up to gather his clothing. He blinked at the morning light that came in filtered through the window blinds. Traffic outside was much heavier than the evening with everyone rushing off to work. He slipped his shirt back over his head before tucking it into his slacks. In a few minutes he seemed just as pressed and proper as he had before and began smoothing his hair back into place. It did not quite stay in place, but it was passable, and he still seemed much neater than most of the men Emer interacted with.

She was about to do the same when she realized that she was still dressed. Set had not asked her to take them off or removed them herself, so she had left them on. It was a first, and it felt a bit sweaty, but there were worse things to wake up covered in than clothing. She moved off the bed, straightening the barely-there skirt of her dress as she asked, “Can I call you Tanny?”

“Why?” asked Set, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle in his shirt.

“Because I think your mother is right, it’s much better than Set,” she insisted. She gave a light shrug, “Just for a few minutes, then you never have to hear it again if you want.”

“I suppose,” replied Set warily. He checked himself over before punching something into his datapad, probably encryptions to get it back to normal, “You don’t happen to know who your grandfather was, do you?”

“Fionn Osheen,” replied Emer, “That’s about all I know.”

“Could you prove you’re related to him if someone asked?” he continued.

“There are plenty of public records. Birth certificates and such. I suppose I could,” said Emer. She was not exactly used to tender exchanges in the morning, but this was the first time she had been asked if she could prove her heritage.

“Very good then,” said Set, placing the datapad in his pocket. He looked Emer over, standing to face her, “How does this sort of thing end? What’s proper?”

Emer shrugged slightly, “It’s your time for your pleasure. You can end it however you want.”

“There’s no protocol?” he asked quizzically, “There’s nothing I’m supposed to do or say to officially end things?”

Emer shook her head, “Whatever makes you comfortable.”

He approached her and held out a hand. Emer thought for a moment that he was moving to help her up when he noticed how straight his fingers were and the upright position of his thumb. He wanted a handshake. Emer resisted the urge to laugh at him. He really was such a silly man. She accepted his and he shook it, “It’s been a pleasure.”

“Not so bad yourself,” replied Emer, “A true gentleman.”

It was laying it on a bit thick, but it was her job to make him feel good about himself. He had been rude, especially at first, but she was not sure how else to compliment a man who had spent the whole night just wanting to be cuddled. She could not really say how good he had been, or how sexy he was, or how he had rocked her world or any of the other ridiculous things people liked to hear. She had a feeling he would like to be called a gentleman as well with the way he presented himself.

“Let’s not be ridiculous,” said Set in a deadpan sort of way, “I hired a prostitute for an eight hour block. I’m a depraved sex-obsessed lunatic.”

He let go of her hand and moved to the door. Emer called after him as she began detangling her hair with her fingers, “See you around then.”

“Unlikely,” replied Set in his odd, curt way before closing the door behind himself.

   ***  

The good thing about mornings was that they were lazy. With most of their clientele off to work, all there really was to do was cleaning up, and that was hardly Emer’s job. Mornings were the time to relax and get centered again after whatever they had been required to do the night before. Not that Emer needed that this particular morning, but there was no need to say that. It was best not to make anyone jealous with what an easy night she had. Or worse, have Madam accuse her of being lazy and sarcastic again.

Instead she stayed quiet when Madam thrust an envelope into her hands. She seemed far more pleased than she had been the night before as she said, “He left that for you. Here’s hoping you brought him in as a regular.”

She would not have minded if Set came back to see her regularly. If it meant even one night every few months that she could count on to be an easy one, it would have been something to look forward to. He hardly seemed the sort to leave a love-letter, the package was far too bulky for that. She had not recalled him carrying a bag or coat. He probably checked those at the door. She stole away to a somewhat private corner as she opened it.

Inside she saw a variety of pamphlets for First Order schools. It was a nice gesture, but it would hardly help so long as she had her debts.

She also found a letter, written on the brothel’s letterhead. He had probably scratched it down before he had left. She sighed as she looked it over. She hoped Set was not one of those idealistic kids who thought there was a way that they could help her escape. It was sweet, but the unfeasibility of the sentiment always made it sting. She sighed as she started reading.

_Ms. Emer,_

_Due to your Arkanisian heritage you are eligible for grants to study at any First Order established institution you so choose. You will find that you are entitled to this under the First Order Education Act, Arkanisian Subsect, Section Three, which states that an Arkanisian person, or a descendent within two generations separation of an Arkanisian citizen, has the right to a free education, with only proof of citizenship or their heritage required to make their claim. You will be required to serve the First Order for a minimum of five years in the field of your choosing, which you will find includes a wide variety of professions._

_Enclosed you will find a letter of recommendation, signed by myself, to attest to your character, which I found to be ~~satisfactory~~ exemplary given the circumstances in which we met. You will require such a letter when you submit your application to the institution of your choosing. Do not lose it. _

_Secondly, after inquiring after the state of your debt, the proprietress informed me that you would require substantial financial assistance. I am assuming that she was lying about the amount she disclosed to me, it seemed ~~stupid ludicrous~~ unreasonable. However, you will find a prepaid card charged with the amount specified. This is not charity. Consider it payment in exchange for silence regarding certain matters which I do not wish to be made public. I trust the amount is enough to pay for your silence. _

_Sincerely, General S. Hux of the First Order, Co-Commander of the Resurgence Class Star Destroyer The Finalizer, Director of the Stormtrooper Training Program, ect._

_Though you seem to prefer ‘Tanny.’_

Emer instantly stuffed the letter back into the envelope for fear that it might be snatched away or burst into flames if someone else saw it. She had a way out. She tried to act as calm and normal as she could as she made her way to her living area in a way she hoped did not look too suspicious. She had a way out. She settled into her bunk and trembled from head to foot as she clutched the envelope and was unable to believe that what she had read was real. She had a way out, and she had no idea how to find and thank the man who had given it to her.

Join the First Order, she supposed.


End file.
